


I Feel It In My Ribs, Feel It In My Soul

by fullmetalheart



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, maybe bc all of the sad is condensed into a little over 1k words, so basically you can read this as gay and sad or just bros and sad, so im obsessed with dashboard confessional sue me, so they hug, this is both the saddest and shortest thing ive ever written, unpopular opinion: steve rogers is depressed and lonely and he just missed his friend, yeah that line is extremely blurred when it comes to them, you know that line between platonic and romantic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmetalheart/pseuds/fullmetalheart
Summary: "I'm with you 'til the end of the line."In which the line blurs and refocuses, and all they can really do is hold onto each other and try to forgive themselves of the things they have done.





	I Feel It In My Ribs, Feel It In My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated birthday to my good pal Gigi ;)

_I feel it in my ribs_  
_Feel it in my soul_  
_The pulse just grows_  
_So loud and so clear_  
_Let your heart beat here_

\- Heart Beat Here, Dashboard Confessional

 

Sometimes Steve finds it hard to get out of bed.

This was one of those times. Bucky was under again (he had seen him last week, but like most things he loves it didn’t last very long), and the Rogue Avengers had no missions today. There was no point in getting up. Besides, he didn’t think he could if he tried. His limbs felt like lead.

 _It’s okay to sleep in once, right?_ he asked himself. He told himself that he was tired, that it was nothing beyond that, and rolled over and closed his eyes.

Sleep didn’t come.

It made sense, of course. His body didn’t need as much sleep anymore, ever since the serum. Four or five hours was usually enough for him to feel well rested. He wondered vaguely what the time was, but it didn’t really matter.

Nothing mattered.

The problem with laying in bed, unable to fall asleep or get up, was that it gave his mind time to wander, and wander it did.

Sometimes he dreams about all the parts of himself he hates.

_Tony’s eyes, wide with fear and betrayal, as he brought the shield down onto-_

He would wake up with gasping sobs, nausea climbing up his throat. He would stagger to the bathroom, and sometimes if he was lucky and the person he had sacrificed everything for was awake, he would find Steve gagging over the toilet. Bucky would place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze.

_“I get it Stevie, it happens to me too.”_

Steve knew this, because sometimes he was the person standing up, offering support to the person kneeling over the toilet while their stomach rioted.

Somehow the support was a paradox. It made it both better and worse. The warm hand grounded him and his gut calmed, but the sobs always got worse. They got worse because Bucky was the only person who would ever see him this way, and it made everything that he had done worth it. He had been alone, so terribly alone until Bucky had come back, and he had broken everything to get rid of that loneliness. He hated that, it was selfish, so the sobs got worse.

The guilt was never enough however, to stop him from standing up and leaning back against his friend, using him as support. And Bucky would wrap a strong arm around his shoulders, the only arm he had, and everything would be better and worse at the same time. Because how did he get here? How did _they_ get here? How did their lives end up so shitty that it made them this broken?

He said that out loud.

_“Just because we’re broken doesn’t mean we can’t be fixed.”_

And Steve clung to that statement, because if Bucky stayed broken, he had sacrificed everything for a shattered piece of his past.

Laying there, staring at the wall doing absolutely nothing, made him think about the thoughts he usually left to his dreams. It was enough to get him out of bed, and he stumbled through the rest of his day in an empty daze

 

Bucky’s memory is littered with holes. That much is obvious. Much of his past is blurred, question marks sketched over events that he should remember. Memories would resurface in dreams, and most of them made him wonder if he even wanted to remember what he had done – no, what the _Winter Soldier_ had done.

He had one memory of Steve that was so vivid that he wondered if his broken mind had made it up. He was too scared to ask, because then it might not be real.

It was in the middle of winter, the night was freezing, and they had been sharing a bed for warmth. It was before the serum, and Bucky could feel the ridges of Steve’s spine pressed against his back. He could practically taste the surge of protectiveness and affection on his tongue. He remembered praying that Steve wouldn’t get sick, and remembered vowing that he would do anything in his power to prevent that.

Steve had gotten sick. It was one of those times where it was so bad Bucky was terrified that he wouldn’t make it. Steve had pulled through of course, because as per usual he was strong, and Bucky was powerless.

Like Steve, Bucky had nightmares, and the first time Steve had found him after one he didn’t react so well.

It ended up with Steve slammed against a wall, knife pressing against his throat hard enough that it made a neat slice. Blood dripped down his neck and he stared at Bucky, eyes wide in surprise.

 _“Hey Buck,_ ” Bucky remembered his voice being calm, kind even, but it shook with the strain of something he couldn’t quite understand, _“it’s me.”_

 _Oh God_. Bucky had dropped the knife and stumbled backwards. He’d crouched down and gripped his head with his hands – no, his _hand_ , just the one he had left.

_I’m Sorry. I’m Sorry. I’m Sorry. I’m Sorry. I’m-_

Steve’s hands were gentle as he pulled his away from his face.

 _“It’s okay Bucky_ ,” he had said with a smile, even as his eyes filled with tears. _“We’re okay.”_

He had pulled Bucky into a hug, and he could hear Steve’s heart beat against his ear.

 

Bucky found Steve standing out on a balcony. The sun was setting, reds and oranges blending together in a canvas of color. It looked like something that Steve would paint, but his hands were idle at his sides.

“Hey Steve,” he said, voice low.

Steve turned around, a genuine smile lighting up his expression.

“You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed needlessly. He shifted on his feet, hand going up to rub the back of his neck. “Y’know… Shuri says it might be for good this time too.”

Steve blinked once, twice, then staggered forward and pulled him into a hug.

“I think we just might be okay,” Steve whispered, and Bucky could feel him shaking against him.

“Yeah,” Bucky choked out, burying his head into Steve’s shoulder. He squeezed Steve tighter with his one arm, and for the first time he had the time to wish he had two, because now that his mind was truly on the mend he could worry about his broken body.

“You know it’s always been you, right?” Steve said, “it’s always been you. You-” Steve swallowed, and heaved a shuddering exhale.

“Yeah, I know,” said Bucky, but confirmation was always nice, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Stop writing oneshots inspired by song lyrics challenge.


End file.
